Her shrewd, quaint insight baffles leading;
And straight through dogma’s special pleading
She holds her own, composed and steady.
Kindness her law; her king is duty.
You cannot bend her though you break her;
As tough as yew and as elastic
Her fibre; unconvinced, unplastic,—
She clasps conviction like a Quaker.
Long live her type, to be our anchor
When times go wrong and true men rally,